


The distance between

by lightly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:06:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightly/pseuds/lightly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set pre series, Dean calls Sam at Stanford.   Yes, it's an R rated phone call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The distance between

The distance between

 

“Hey, Sam.” Dean’s voice was soft and muffled. Sam thought he could almost hear the miles between them, and not just the physical ones.

“Dean.”

A long awkward pause followed. Sam had no idea what to say beyond hello, and Dean, well Dean had always been bad with conversations that had no purpose. There had to be reason for this call, so Sam waited. Seconds that felt like days ticked by.

“Uh, how are you?” Sam asked finally when it became clear that Dean wasn’t going to get this started.

“Good, good. Hey, you know me.”

Sam could clearly picture Dean, sitting on his bed in some random motel, it would be the bed nearest the bathroom. When all three of them were forced to share a room, Dad always took the one closest to the door. Sam couldn’t see it being any different now that it was just the two of them. Dean’s hand, the one not holding the phone, would be playing with something. Maybe it was a frayed spot on his jeans, perhaps even the knife that Dean kept under his pillow and thought that Sam didn’t know about. He would have that smile pasted on his face, the one that told the world ‘hey, I’m ok’. That smile could fool anyone, even Dad, but not Sam. It never fooled Sam.

“Where’s Dad?”

“What makes you think he’s not here?”

“Honestly, Dean. Would you have called me if he were there?”

A pause, then an apologetic “No.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s got a meeting with a contact.”

“Oh. . . What kind of contact?”

“One he doesn’t want me to meet.” Dean grumped, he sounded obviously upset at being left behind, left out. “I didn’t call you to talk about Dad.”

“Why did you call me?”

“I . . . How is College?”

“Dean!”

“No, really, I want to know.”

“College, College is fine.” College was actually really hard and painfully quiet. Some of his dorm mates thought he was strange because he was always watching the shadows. He wasn’t going to tell Dean that though.

“Good.” Dean said absently. Another pause followed and Sam was starting to get frustrated, but Dean wanted something and Sam had learned a long time ago that Dean couldn’t be rushed. So Sam waited, and waited.

“Dude, I have homework.”

“Oh,” Dean sounded disappointed and Sam felt a tug at his stomach.

“Why did you call me, Dean?” Sam said the words deliberately slowly, trying to bite back the angry edge. He could hear Dean breathing on the end of the line. Deep breaths, in and out. He pictured Dean sitting on his bed, his lips pursed together in that unnaturally pretty cupids bow, as he inhaled and exhaled. His eyes were probably closed. The image of Dean was so clear in his mind that he could almost reach out and touch him. Unconsciously, Sam’s hand reached up and began to grope the air; he quickly pulled it back feeling nothing short of ridiculous. Sam heard Dean take in a long breath, like he was about to say something, but all that came out was a choked sob. Not for the first time since he had left for Stanford, Sam felt incredibly guilty.

“Did I drive you away?” Dean asked quietly. Sam was surprised, not by the question itself, but by the resignation and sadness in Dean’s voice, he had never heard that coming from his brother before.

“God, no Dean. Why would you say that?”

“Because you left after I . . After we.”

“I didn’t leave because of you.”

“Then you left because of Dad.” Dean’s voice was accusing now and Sam felt oddly relaxed, he was more comfortable with confrontational Dean.

“No. . Maybe . . Partly. God Dean, you know I was never happy with what we did. All the moving around, never being able to get close to anyone, I just wanted to be . .”

“Normal? You know that has never been an option for us.”

“I know, I think we both made that clear to each other.”

“Hey, we did nothing wrong.”

Sam had spent the last few months trying not to think about what they had done, but in that moment it all came flooding back. He saw himself sliding down Dean, their skin burning hot and aching. He saw himself lick the sweat off Dean’s neck and he remembered what it felt like to have Dean move inside him. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and tried to banish the image from his mind, but it took hold of him. Sam felt himself growing hard as he thought about how his brother looked naked, and he flushed with shame.

“Sam?” He heard Dean ask. He realized he had been quiet for a long time. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes!” Sam snapped. God, he was getting a headache, he really didn’t need this talk right now. Hell, he didn’t need to have this talk ever. He hadn’t spoken to Dean since he had left for school, this was the first time Dean had called. If Sam was honest with himself, he would never have called Dean himself, that would have been too much temptation. The demon hunting he could have lived with, demons were sadly, a fact of life. There was no chance ever of being normal when every time he was alone with his brother he wanted to touch him. Sam wanted to run his hands over the scars on Dean’s back, wanted to gently trace his fingers over every bump and perfect imperfection. That wasn’t normal. The raging hard on he had right now over that image wasn’t normal. “I’m hanging up now, Dean.” Sam ground out. He had to get away from this conversation, he had to get away from his brother. If he could just get to the shower he could close himself off, maybe think about the pretty blond girl he saw in the library today.

“No, Sam.” Dean shouted just as Sam was about to hang up. Sam stopped just short of the cradle. “Please.” Dean’s voice was low and deep, Sam shook his head in quiet disgust, Dean knew exactly what that voice did to him. Sam’s pulse quickened and it felt like all his blood was in a rush to get to his dick.

“No, Dean.” Sam whispered. “Not now.” Despite himself he raised the receiver back to his ear. He heard that soft chuckle that he loved and hated. “You bastard.”

“Aww, does Sam need help with little Sammy?”

“You complete bastard. Why are you doing this? Why now?” Sam half expected Dean to say ‘because I can’. He could still see Dean sitting on that bed all alone. Sam could see him so clearly, every single detail was engrained on his memory right down to the sliver of a scar on his chin that was noticeable when he smiled. He knew Dean had to be smiling now. Sitting, smiling on that damn bed with a huge bulge in his jeans. Sam shook his head again. Thinking about Dean and his erection wasn’t helping his little problem any.

“I miss you.” Dean said and Sam choked. He hadn’t been expecting that. “I want to touch you, I want you to touch me.”

“Dean, we can’t.”

“I know there is a pretty big distance between us.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Yes it is.”

“Dean, we.”

“Sam!”

“What? What the hell is it Dean? What the hell do you want?”

Another heavy pause. There was enough tension to fill both rooms, Sam felt trapped, the air closed in around him holding him still.

“We could never be wrong, Sam.” Dean said. “Did we feel wrong to you.”

Sam wanted to say yes, but he couldn’t remember how to say that word. “No” he whispered.

“It’s always just been us.”

“But, I want. .”

“I know what you want. But what I want,” Dean did that thing with his voice again, that dangerous thing where the tone was undercut with lust and sorrow. That was the voice that had convinced Sam to give into his desires in the first place. “I want you to touch me, I want to touch you.”

“We can’t.” Sam said helplessly. He knew where this was going, but he didn’t know if he wanted to stop it.

“Sam.”

Sam’s hand was on his zipper before he knew what he was doing, soon his jeans were down and he held his cock in his hand.

“Dean?”

“I’m there with you.” Dean said. Sam once again thought of his brother reclining on his bed, dick in his hand. Dean would be slowly stroking the length of his shaft, Sam mirrored the imagined action. Sam heard Dean’s grunts of pleasure and he imagined Dean’s face, eyes closed, lost inside himself. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking this is your hand.” The words just slipped out before Sam had time to think about what he was saying. An increase of moaning from Dean’s side told him that he had given the right answer. Sam began to stroke himself faster as his image of Dean sped up, and slowed down as Dean slowed own. The sounds Dean was making was driving him crazy. They vibrated through him making him forget everything else, all the reasons they shouldn’t be doing this were pushed to the back of his mind. All that existed at that moment was the two of them and their invisible hands on each others bodies. Sam came so hard and fast that he saw little spot dance in front of his eyes, the satisfied gasp on the other end of the line told him that Dean had also finished well.

“Sam, I.” Dean started, but Sam cut him off.

“Dean, I have to go now.” And he hung up. For a few minutes he looked at the phone like it was snake about to bite. He almost expected it to ring again and was sad to find he was disappointed when it didn’t. He sighed and turned to the mess on his lap, he felt like crying. Dean had been wrong, Sam thought. He hadn’t been running away from hunting, or his brother, he hadn’t even been running from their Dad. Sam knew that he had been running from himself. part of him wasn’t sure if he would pick up the phone if Dean called him again.

 

FIN


End file.
